and could bear silence no longer. "Her high Majesty
will kiss her on the brow, and in Jersey Isle she shall blossom
and bloom and know bounty--or never more shall I have privilege and
perquage."

He lumbered forward and kissed Angele's hand as though conferring
distinction, but with great generosity. "I said that all should go well,
and so it shall. Rozel shall prevail. The Queen knows on what rock to
build, as I made warrant for her, and will still do so."

His vanity was incorrigible, but through it ran so child-like a spirit
that it bred friendship and repulsed not. The Duke's Daughter pressed
the arm of Angele, who replied:

"Indeed it has been so according to your word, and we are--I am--shall
ever be beholden. In storm you have been with us, so true a pilot and so
brave a sailor; and if we come to port and the quiet shore, there shall
be spread a feast of remembrance which shall never grow cold, Seigneur."

"One ingle-nook right warm shall be
Where my heart hath good company,"

sang the fool, and catching by the arm Buonespoir, who ducked his head
in farewell, ran him into the greenwood. Angele came forward as if to
stay Buonespoir, but stopped short reflectively. As she did so, the
Duke's Daughter whispered quickly into Lempriere's ear.

Swelling with pride he nodded, and said: "I will reach him and discover
myself to him, and bring him, if he stray, most undoubted and infallible
lady," and with an air of mystery he made a heavily respectful exit.

Left alone, the two ladies seated themselves in the bower of roses, and
for a moment were silent. Presently the Duke's Daughter laughed aloud.

"In what seas of dear conceit swims your leviathan Seigneur,
heart's-ease?"

Angele stole a hand into the cool palm of the other. "He was builded for
some lonely sea all his own. Creation cheated him. But God give me ever
such friends as he, and I shall indeed 'have good company' and fear no
issue." She sighed.

"Remains there still a fear? Did you not have good promise in the
Queen's words that night?"

"Ay, so it seemed, and so it seemed before--on May Day, and yet--"

"And yet she banished you, and tried you, and kept you heart-sick?
Sweet, know you not how bitter a thing it is to owe a debt of love to
one whom we have injured? So it was with her. The Queen is not a saint,
but very woman. Marriage she hath ever contemned and hated; men she hath
desired to keep her faithful and impassioned se